Shadows of the Night

It was happening again. My depression was rising. It comes out of nowhere, a feeling of great loneliness and worthlessness that makes my limbs turn to lead as I fight to continue whatever I'm doing until I could find some privacy. Sitting in my room, in the dark, it was almost enough to make me grimace at that sliver of silver lining. I don’t always know what causes it, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but question my life. Living in a cartoon, at least in a very literal ocular sense, a veritable fairy tale, and yet I could still manage to politely alienate the entirety of the world from me. Did I really deserve someone who called themselves my friend? But more importantly did I believe I should have one?

Worse, the fragment of The Nightmare, Somnium, I’d manage to get a hold of had turned out to be as nearly sensitive as myself, though clearly in another direction. I’d managed to anger her when I’d lost control in the old castle, and had done nothing but get into conflict since then. Was it any wonder she had walled herself away from me? Well, at least she still had her brother half of Caligo. I’m sure he would come up with something that could make her happy.

***Caligo***

I wait as Rumor, or so he calls himself now, falls into his morning trance. I really can’t believe how easily he was pulled in by my previously damaged form. A call from the darkness and he eats up the best yarn my corroded matrix can spin like a starving pony at a feast, no questions asked.

I grab a passing bubble of thought, mostly emotion peppered with nostalgia, and speed through the twisting white corridors of his mind, twisted more due to the presence of two entities, but I’m currently working to correct the superfluous influence of the other.

Dropping off the disappearing thought I stop in what is now the containment unit. Formerly the Emotivore Nyx, but due to fragmentation has taken to calling herself Somnium. Not that it matters, I will carry out my programming.

My time alone in the dark as well as the initial loss of my first host mere moments after I was created has taken its toll on me. And were it not for the red mare’s unintended tampering with my programming through her first reachings into finer workings of crystalmancy, I might never have ever fully woken. But all that’s behind me now as I can focus on repairing all damage and fulfilling my purpose.

I prepare myself at the door, the vault which now drains just enough power from this Nyx fragment yet still allows her to continue her own course of healing, though at a slower and more controllable rate, her emotional output is key for fueling my continued infiltration of the host mind. Luckily, the alien host has many memories to draw from to choose an appropriate form to increase emotional reactions.

With my form chosen I begin the process of materialization, simple chest, large arms with simple but effective claws, the lower half of the body a jagged zag of a ghostly tail, but it is the face which gives the appearance of a monster. Wedged faced, the head is bisected through the middle by a wicked line, the right half of the face is left bare, while the other is given a simple circle for an unblinking eye and a deranged smile which is halved by the nature of the face. I take liberty with the color, making the body white and the shown teeth and eye to be pitch black. Perfect.

The thick white walls follow my command and peel apart in sickly stands as I float into the room, my hands clasped behind my back as my form stoops like a vulture over its dying meal to be, the rictus grin and open eye clearly visible as they are the only other color in the room, save the amorphous mass of swirling black and blue energy, which tries to maintain the appearance of calmness by keeping its pattern even and constant through the clear containment field, but the drain lines have grown a shade darker as emotional power runs through it, and ultimately to me.

“I just thought you might like to know that things are progressing quite well thanks to you,” I say in a sickly metallic voice as echoes of the words play upon each other as though multiple persons were trying to speak in unison, but were a fraction of a second off from each other. The effect is immediate as another spike of power is absorbed. “Not fair? My, it’s almost like you have some basis for comparison. But don’t worry, that’s just what I’m about to do,” I say as I turn around, a low and constant stream of seething anger again flows through my systems as I grow in power and form. I latch onto the next thought that zooms harmlessly through my chosen torso as I head to the nexus of my power, it was time to visit the waking world.

Once seated, I flow back into the entirety of my expanded form, and slowly begin to pluck upon the strings of Rumor’s consciousness. Firstly his sense of environment is deadened, then his sense of physical touch, and then internal balance. I still don’t have the power to overcome his waking mind, the segregation of our forms having solidified months ago, but I’ve finally gathered enough power to go on small excursions while he remains unconscious.

I control the sensation of being as my form slides out of the microscopic fissures of Rumor’s skin, the act of feeling, while bothersome, is a necessary evil to properly handle the outside world lest one ends up disregarding many easily avoidable falls. Rather than stopping at facial control, the mind being all that I really need, I begin to use my magical stores as my structure multiplies as energy is let into my outer system clothes and all. The whiteness quickly consumes the host body, though only superficially as I flex the white carapace along both the upper and lower outer phalanges. The sensation of being hoofless is odd, but I was made to be adaptable to any host my quarry might run to. I still must crawl to the wall and use it to help gain initial balance. I take a few tentative steps, but the host memory along with my own quickly end the problem as I step across the room via shadow, thanks to the host, and move out into the hallway.

The scent of burnt carpet and foodstuffs is a bother, but so is most life outside the mind, all that movement. My auditory detects slow breathing behind the door directly across from me, the landlord is still asleep at the late hour during the daylight. This is good, as it will mean no harm will currently befall her. I quickly move to the bottom of the nearby stairway and slide out the backdoor, making sure that no sentient being marks my passage as I make my way through the back alleys, which, for once, seem to have been make almost distinctly for garbage storage and removal, out of sight for those on the public walkways and also easier for those who come for it. It is efficient, and this pleases me.

A few minutes of passage as I speed my way through the nearly creatureless alley, a few inebriated ponies and a few diamond dogs huddled around a small fire attempting to look intimidating for no one, mark my swift ground passage, though the added features of claws upon the hands and the feet, though the 3 later are for traction, seem to draw their eyes the longest. Eventually I find I must travel across a crowded thoroughfare, while not an entire problem, as my host is one of the few true bipeds within the entire city, even though I currently possess neither eyes or any other facial feature, the very stupid and very insightful will still draw a connection. Ultimately I compromise my energy store as potential energy is gathered within the host’s legs. A flick of ignition and the energy morphs to kinetic as I take my first step, and then forty-seven before anyone on the street notices the shift in air currents as the small vacuum I’ve created follows me up to the now closing doors as I slam them behind me.

The room, while not of royal standards, holds a class about itself regardless as I stalk through the lightless room, empty save for the dark wood tables and plush backed benches with red covers over the soft stuffing. Many of the tables had dark green walls erected around them making each setting a small alcove of their own. It also acted to muffle the already nearly perfect silence of the room. At the end of the expansive room I find a polished banister, a deep red wood this time, and begin to ascend. The second floor is something of a dance floor, though a good deal of the space is again set up for drinking and the like while in quiet conversation. But it was the third floor which finally ended my search, a long hallway, trisecting left, right, and ahead, from the stairway, and at the end of the way in front of me stood an impressive door which held a simple golden placard. Getting closer as I treaded over the now sea-bottom blue carpet it read ‘Overseer Crowly’. Extending my auditory functions I could hear the scratching of quill to paper, he was in.

I pulled inward and again made check of my stored power, another display of power was called for, and I had just enough for the return trip, as well as the plans I had just after, but I didn’t have enough for great surface area works, so I’d have to make this next one count.

Shifting consciousness back to the world I again pushed energy directly into the arms, and enough into the legs to act as a brace, and then slammed the palms of my borrowed hands into the door. But, rather than go flying a slight tearing sound instead came forward as the door itself fell to the floor, the hinges and the bolts that had affixed it to the wood fell silently over as much as their twisted metal forms now allowed. I also noted a strange pricking sensation below… the sternum, it was called, and looked down to inspect my foreside. Moving a clawed hand I pinched a black needle which ended up having gone three inches into the body, but worse, it had gone through my protective shell.

“Well,” said a deep, dry, voice from inside the emerald carpeted room, the writing never having stopped, “I know the dart did in fact hit you. Though the feeling of surprise you seem to be emanating would suggest you thought your,” the writing stopped for a moment as the grey diamond dog looked up, his face much like Doberman, intelligent, but vicious if need be, “armor,” Crowly said as he returned to his writing, “would suggest you never thought that a poisoned needle could be enchanted by a waveform spell, rippling the existence of the object until it hit’s flesh had never crossed your mind before. But I wouldn’t feel too bad,” he continued, his voice holding obvious calm, “I know I had not expected for someone to come along that was immune to concentrated stonefish venom, and given an extra kick thereafter. So,” he said, a little irritation finally entering his voice as he placed his quill within its holder, “what exactly do you want? Besides to ruin a very expensive and enchanted wooden door.”